


Ad-Libbing

by Skulker



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skulker/pseuds/Skulker
Summary: This fic comes off the back of me completing a marathon run-through of FRIENDS and getting overly invested in Chandler being so very bi and so very self-loathing about it, and it never getting any kind of resolution. Yes, he gets his happy ending of a loving relationship, but does so having completely denied, repressed and made a joke of a part of himself that he still hates, and that makes gay little me ridiculously sad. So ridiculously sad that I had to do something about it.This takes place during S2E24 "The One with Barry and Mindy's Wedding" where Joey is auditioning for a part where he has to kiss a man, and draws heavily on the events of S1E8 "The One where Nana Dies Twice" where Chandler nearly gets set up with Lowell from Finance by a matchmaker at work.Come join me as I knit these two scenarios together with maximum awkwardness. It'll be fun.





	Ad-Libbing

Joey dropped his head in his hands and sighed.

This was reasonable, Chandler thought. They were all crowded around the table in Central Perk as usual, and Joey had just wrapped up his account of how he was having to do a second audition for a part Warren Beatty was directing.

This time the sticking point hadn't been Joey's terrible timekeeping, his lack of preparation, his creative interpretation of scripts, or, indeed, his unique acting talents. No, those were treasured qualities that Joey looked on proudly as charming quirks of his personality, thereby leaving him invulnerable to criticism. This time he'd been hit where it hurt. Warren Beatty - _Warren Beatty_ \- had asked him for a second audition because Joey's on-screen kiss hadn't been convincing.

True, this kiss had been with another guy, so perhaps not Joey's traditional field _par excellence_ , but still, the criticism had clearly shaken him.

Monica bravely attempted to comfort him. "Joey," she said sweetly, "maybe you're just not used to kissing men, and you just tensed up a little. Maybe that's what you need to work on."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Joey said, a ray of hope dawning on his face. He shot an enquiring glance at Ross, who immediately jumped like he'd be touched with a live wire.

"Over my dead body!"

Chandler was prepared for it when the enquiring glance turned his way. "I'll be using his dead body as a shield," he said quickly.

Joey flopped back with a ridiculous pout.

"The least you can do is get me a coffee to compensate," he said.

"Well, _that's_ a deal," Chandler said, seizing the excuse to extract himself from the conversation with both hands. 

He ordered the coffees with a air of relief, and then spoiled everything by making eye contact with the man next to him. The guy gave a nod of recognition, launching Chandler into the inevitable panic he always had when attempting to recognise someone from work without the handy context of their desk, their department, or a door with their name on it. After a second's baffled blinking he managed to claw the name out of the aether and recognised him as Lowell from Finance.

"Hey," Chandler said, avoiding using his name just in case he was wrong.

"Hey."

"Have you been at the office?" Despite it being a Saturday, he was dressed in a suit and had the aggrieved look of the martyr about him.

"What can I say, I just can't get enough of those spreadsheets."

That got a laugh from Chandler, mostly as thanks for Lowell from Finance conveniently confirming that he was, indeed, Lowell from Finance.

As they had ordered at the same time, and were apparently both very awkward, they were now trapped in a pointless small talk cycle until the coffees were done. This was fine, though, because Chandler was feeling particularly friendly towards Lowell at that precise moment. A while back, Lowell had said the kindest, most reassuring thing that anyone had ever said to him. Lowell had basically promised that Chandler was _not_ , in fact, gay. Actual gay guys would know, he said, with their sixth sense homosexuality radar. If questions about the security of his straightness rose in Chandler's mind - which they did more often than he'd like to admit - he could calm himself with the knowledge that he'd consulted an expert. The results were in: he was bona fide 100% not gay.

So, today's situation with Joey talking about kissing men and asking to kiss men and just generally putting kissing men at the forefront of everyone's minds? That would have previously freaked him out a little. But not now. He wasn't gay. He couldn't be gay. So people could talk about kissing men if they wanted, and he could just sit back without worrying because this was something that was not relevant to him. It was wonderful.

So, having forever earned Chandler's gratitude, he was happy to small talk about work with Lowell, making him laugh, until finally the coffees were done and Lowell headed for the door with a "see you Monday."

"Bye, Lowell," Chandler replied, and then had to jump out of the way as Joey sprang out of his chair like a Labrador hearing a doorbell.

"Lowell?!" Joey asked with a ferocious, joyful intensity, making Lowell instinctively retreat behind a sofa, holding his cup in front of him like a protective ward. Joey turned to Chandler. "The gay guy from your work? This is perfect!"

Lowell turned a look of quiet bafflement first on Joey, then on Chandler. Chandler was equally baffled. How could Joey possibly know that? When would he even have mentioned it? Then he remembered: it could only have been last year when a well-meaning office matchmaker had tried to set him up with Lowell, thereby introducing Chandler to the knowledge that he had 'a quality' universally acknowledged by straight people as being some intangible indicator of definite gayness.

"I'm sorry about him," Chandler said quickly, wishing the floor would swallow him up. Or Joey. Or perhaps the whole coffee shop, the street outside, and anywhere else that might have heard Joey's penetrating shout; just let them all fall through the floor and just fold up quietly into nothingness in the vacuum of space. "This is my roomate, Joey. We don't normally let him outside with the normal people."

"Quiet, Chandler; this is _great_ ," he said, and mercilessly advanced on Lowell, who now had nowhere to retreat. "You see, I'm an actor and I'm having to do a second audition for this part where I kiss a man because they didn't find the way I kiss men 'convincing' enough. I mean, it's _ME_ , right? So I just don't get it. Seriously, I know how to kiss convincingly - am I right Feebs?"

"I would recommend you to a friend," Phoebe repeated, without looking up from her magazine.

"So there must be something I'm missing. Is there a specific thing you have to do when you kiss a man?"

Lowell blinked at him for a second and then said, drily, "you need to hold his moustache out of the way with _both_ hands."

"Is everyone from your work like that?" Monica asked Chandler mildly.

"I'm serious," Joey continued. "I really want this part. It's Warren Beatty directing. Warren Beatty said I wasn't a good kisser - I can't just let that slide. You've gotta help me."

"How? there's no secret to it."

"Can I kiss you?"

"What?" Lowell asked. Well, it came out more as 'hu?!', and was accompanied by him trying simultaneously to push his glasses up and pull his hair out of his face while holding a cup of very hot coffee.

"I'm serious, I think I just need to practice with someone who knows what they're doing. None of these guys will man up and do it - some so-called 'friends' _they_ are - and even if they did, they're amateurs. They don't know whether a man kissing them is good at it or not." Joey shot a glance of such disdain at Chandler that he only narrowly avoided trying to defend himself. Joey continued, "So what do you say? I know it's a big ask because you don't even know me, but I'd be really thankful. You'd be doing me a huge favour."

Chandler found himself watching in disbelief. Joey was flirting! He was right up into Lowell's personal space, smiling broadly, with his head tilted back. He looked about ten seconds away from a 'how you doin'?"

"No, you can't kiss me," Lowell said, looking rather red in the face but regaining his composure. "But I wouldn't mind seeing the script. There's a lot of terrible representation out there, maybe I can nip this one in the bud. What's the scenario?"

Chandler watched in silence while Joey sketched out the scene, still heavy on the smiles and eye contact. Chandler found himself watching the body language more than listening to the conversation...and saw with vague horror that Joey was working his usual seductive magic. Lowell might have said he was interested in reading the script rather than acting it out, and maybe he was, but the fact Joey was...well, _Joey_ was definitely helping.

Chandler started listening again just as Joey said, "Come up and read the script - my apartment's just around the corner."

"OK, sure."

Chandler bridled. Joey had just picked up a guy! And not just any guy - a actual gay guy. Just flirted with a gay guy in front of everyone, in front of the whole coffee shop, invited him up to their apartment for purposes related to kissing and totally succeeded...and that was _okay?_ Smiles aside, everyone was acting like it was. As if picking up guys was something you could just _do_?

Lowell turned to Chandler. "Do you mind coming, too? I still don't actually know who this is."

"I told you, I'm Dr Drake Ramoray. Tell your friends, they'll be impressed."

Lowell looked as though he was reconsidering the whole operation.

"He's safe, I promise," Chandler said. "But I'll come too."

\-------------------------

Up at the apartment Lowell was frowning thoughtfully over the script.

"OK, this first bit where you're at the bar, and Joel catches your eye and comes over to you. How are you playing that?"

"Dude, we don't need to do the whole thing, it's not my acting that's the problem. It's just the kissing."

"Well, there's kissing and there's kissing and the only thing that makes one type convincing and another not is the context, and the context starts here. I need to see you, getting sight of Joel for the first time and thinking 'I want to kiss him'."

"Fine," Joey said and shut his eyes for moment, apparently getting into character. Then he opened them and leant against the kitchen counter. Slowly his eyes tracked the path of an imaginary person across the room, as he smiled and nodded. Chandler thought it looked like he was a doting uncle watching an invisible toddler ride their bike for the first time across the kitchen, nodding encouragement. Lowell apparently thought something similar because he caught Chandler's eye wryly.

"Like that," Joey said.

"So, uh, confident, shall we say."

"Yeah, confident."

"Well, reading the script, I'm not sure you should be _quite_ so confident. I mean, he's never done this before and this isn't a gay bar in San Francisco, it's a little bar out of town."

"So? Sometimes it's easier to pick up at a quieter place, you know."

"I'm not sure you're in quite the right mindset." Lowell said. "Okay, lets step back. You're you, Robustly Straight Italian Guy, and you go to the bar. How many girls do you like on a good day?"

"Depends on the bar, but usually there's, like, four HOT HOT girls. And then, I don't know like ten regular hot girls. And then like ten more where you're like, yeah, she's kinda hot. And then-"

"Okay, so we've established you have multiple options on a graduated scale of hotness. But you're not you. You're," Lowell took a glance at the script and winced, "Noir, and you're not interested in any of the girls, no matter how far up the sliding scale of hotness they are. You like guys."

"Sure," Joey said, and got into character by tossing his head back and staring at the corner of the room with a smouldering intensity. 

Lowell shot Chandler a look that involved some serious eyebrow work, and Chandler give an 'I know, I know' nod.

"So you walk in that bar and how many options do you have?"

"I don't know? I think Noir's pretty good at picking up guys."

"Well, maybe he is, but since you wanted my experience after all, let me break down how the statistics usually work out for me. So there's a hundred people in the bar, because I'm getting the feeling you're a man who likes round numbers and simple math. So, half those people are women, so you're down to fifty possible candidates. Of the fifty guys, well, going by the most generous estimates, about a fifth will have any interest in other guys, so we're down to ten. Many of those will be interested in women too and so have never even acknowledged they like men, so seven. Others aren't interested in women, and know that, but they're in the closet, so we go to five. Some know they're gay, but would never pick up a guy in a bar, especially a straight bar, so four. Some of those guys will already be in relationships, so three. Some won't be dating at all; two. Lots of guys won't be interested in me because a self-deprecating, twenty-six-year old, white accountant somehow isn't everyone's slice of pie. So I've maybe got one guy. And do I like him? No, of course I don't, because life just isn't that perfect. So zero. Zero options in the whole bar."

Shit, Chandler thought. It's a good job he wasn't gay, because despite the greatly enhanced odds of a straight man finding a straight woman to date on a random day in a random bar, he knew that kind of feeling so, so, so well that it startled him to hear it put into words. The feeling of going out and there being someone for everyone else except him, like life was a huge game of musical chairs - except instead of chairs, he was missing...you know, attention, validation, affection, the thrill of talking to another human with the vague promise of sexual intercourse somewhere on the horizon...minor stuff like that. He swallowed hard.

"Now, maybe Noir's got a slightly broader range of options but, still, if he's gone to a bar like this most likely he's gone out to drink a few beers, look after other people's coats and go home alone. I mean there's always the chance he'll meet a guy, and he tells himself that when he gets ready, puts on his nice shirt and a bit of aftershave. Really, however, he knows in his heart of hearts that it's not going to happen, because when it does happen - like it does in this...wonderfully written script...it's a real surprise." Lowell looked at him steadily. "A real shock. When Noir looks up and meets Joel's eyes across the bar, feels that acknowledgement, that recognition...he can't believe it. When Joel gets up and crosses through the crowd of people, surely he's coming to talk to someone else, one of the girls, right? He must be... But, no, he's come to talk to you, and he's hot, and he likes you, and it's happening, and you feel like you've hit the jackpot."

Chandler realised his mouth was dry when he swallowed so noisily he made himself jump. No one else noticed. He realised Joey was as carried along with it as he was. He was leaning closer to Lowell with their gazes locked, looking very in-character as a man who might kiss a man. Suddenly Chandler felt hot all over. They weren't going to actually do it, were they?

But Lowell continued, "and I suppose the script is quite realistic because suddenly...suddenly your hands are sweaty and your tongue seems three times its normal size, and you're coming out with the most idiotic dialogue imaginable, but it doesn't matter. He's asked what you're drinking, he makes sure your hands touch when he passes it to you, it's happening. He might even kiss you..."

As Joey leant closer, he trailed off, tilting his chin up and letting his eyes fall half lidded. They're going to kiss, Chandler thought numbly. Right here in my apartment, right now. They're going to kiss. They're going to- 

"Wow!" Joey said making everyone jump. He stood back up and gave Lowell a companionable clap on the arm. "That's amazing! I never would have thought of it like that. That was _great_." Joey rubbed his hands together. "Whoah, the next time I kiss a guy, he better brace himself because I will be so convincingly, desperately gay that he won't know what hit him."

And with that, he delightedly strolled out of the apartment. 

The bang of the door echoed in a long, awkward silence.

"Well," Lowell said finally, getting up slowly and not quite meeting Chandler's eyes. He was quite red in the face. "One person there _did not_ keep their half of the bargain. I feel I was lured here under false pretences."

"You _did_ say he wasn't allowed to kiss you," Chandler couldn't help but point out.

"Well, yes, but he was supposed to know that was thin veneer of respectability made out of big fat lies."

The way Lowell said that, with the humour not quite covering the mortification, gave Chandler another sharp pang of empathy.

"Yeah," was all Chandler could say.

Lowell put his jacket on and made for the door. "I guess I should get going. And, uh, Chandler? This uniquely embarrassing scene stays between us, right? I won't be able to hold my head up around the water cooler if everyone knows I got scammed by Dr Drake Ramoray."

"The secret is safe with me," Chandler said, opening the door for him.

Lowell was a step down the corridor when suddenly Chandler stopped him with a "wait-!"

Lowell turned. "Wait what?" 

"You forgot your coffee." He picked it up from where he'd spotted it on the Foosball table, and then amended. "Your - uh - cold coffee."

"Oh, of course," Lowell said, reaching out for it. "Can't leave without that."

Their hands touched.

There was a second of hesitation and then, looking slightly alarmed, Chandler stepped forward and kissed him quickly, half on his lips, half on his cheek.

They stared at each other through the doorway for a long second, Lowell slowly raising his fingers to the spot on his cheek where Chandler had kissed him. 

Before he could speak, Chandler blurted, "well, that's evened that out," and slammed the door with a polite, formal, "see you at work."

There was a long silence from the other side, and then Lowell's voice echoed from the corridor, "see you at work."

Chandler waited until the footsteps had died away before he gave voice his feelings.

He did this with a strangled noise that sounded mostly like ' _gaaah_ '.


End file.
